


Not on the Couch Lassie

by wordsonapaige



Series: 37 Flavors of Pineapple [2]
Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Shassie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28171632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsonapaige/pseuds/wordsonapaige
Summary: Shawn breaks into Carlton’s place, it doesn’t turn out as planned.
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Series: 37 Flavors of Pineapple [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2063787
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Not on the Couch Lassie

The sound of the key in the lock wasn’t altogether disturbing. Sure, it startled Carlton, sat there as he was, sipping slowly on a glass of scotch and working his way through Matterhorn. But the sound made him more curious than concerned. After all, who’d have a key to his place? It was a well known fact he was the one who lived there, Head Detective and all, so no criminal worth his salt would be stupid enough to come barging in through the front door, and any second-rate burglar wouldn’t have a key. Which meant it was a mystery, an annoying mystery, but a mystery all the same. 

Carlton, though, wasn’t a stupid man, and as the lock turned and the door swung open, he’d opted to switch his long fingered grasp from the glass of scotch on the table beside him to the gun tucked inconspicuously next to the couch. Just in case. 

“Hey, Lassie.” 

The trilling chirp from Shawn Spencer both eased and irritated him, forcing dark brows to draw together as he scowled at the young man who’d so casually walked into his apartment. 

“Spencer.” Carlton stated cooly, double checking the safety on his gun before moving his hand to grasp his glass again. “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?” His voice was dark and low, made rough from the long day and the second glass of booze. “In my home. Without my asking.” 

“I made a key.” Shawn brandished the brass item in question, proud as he held it, swaying slightly as he did so. 

“Have you been drinking?” Lassiter asked, narrowing his eyes at the younger man. 

“See, there’s a key cutting machine in the basement of the precinct.” Spencer began, crossing the room on not-quite-steady Chuck Taylor covered feet. “Bet you didn’t know that.” He gestured at his head to indicate his own supposed superpowers. “I borrowed your keys the other day and made a copy.” 

Sitting there, still mostly motionless, Carlton looked up with a questioning irritation at the brunette standing before him, trying to figure out just when the pseudo psychic would have had access to his keys. 

“I worked at a hardware store once. For like, I dunno, a week?” With a shrug, Shawn toed out of his low-tops, kicking them in opposite directions. “I think it was in Oklahoma.” He paused, looking ceiling-ward as he contemplated. “Wisconsin?” 

“Spencer.” The detective interjected, growl ever present in his tone. “What are you doing in. My. Home.”

“I wanted to see you.” This was said as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “I was on a date, well, I wouldn’t call it a date, more eating together based on mutual, physical attraction.” Leaning down he grabbed the book out of Lassiter’s grasp and tossed it to the other side of the couch. “And it wasn’t so much eating as it was gelato and beer and sucking face, which, really, you oughta try. It’d do you good. Lift your soul, reenergize your chi.”

“Get to the explanation.” Lassiter growled, allowing the book to be removed as he leaned back into the cushions. “I have a gun. I will use it.”

Chuckling, Shawn steadied himself against the arm of the couch as he crawled into the detective’s lap, straddling him with knees to either side. “Is that a threat, Lassie Face, or a promise, because I have a very good idea of what you’re packing right now.” He wiggled his hips for good measure, applying pressure he had to know Carlton could feel. 

“Mr. Spencer.” The salt and pepper policeman bit out, long fingered hands moving to grip firmly around Shawn’s slender waist and still his movements. “Explanation.”

“So I was kissing her, and she was right up there with Aphrodite if Aphrodite had been more Queen of Wakanda warrior type, and,” Shawn laughed hard at this, sitting back onto his heels and Carlton’s knees. “And I’m thinking about what’s next and planning the Bra Removal Process, and then all the sudden there you are.”

“Excuse me?” From between the top two open buttons of his shirt, a dark blush moved across Carlton’s skin, coloring up the length of his neck. 

“You know. In my thoughts. And instead of thinking about her, and how she tasted and felt and...”

Carlton cleared his throat, risking the removal of a hand from Shawn’s waist to take a slow sip of his scotch. 

“Sorry.” Shawn flashed a toothy smile, fingers moving to play at the corners of Carlton’s collar. “Anyways. Should have been thinking about her. All I could think about was you.” 

Silence followed. Carlton hadn’t dumped Shawn on the floor yet, he hadn’t demanded that he get out immediately, and instead had just sipped at his drink and set it back down once more, blue-eyed gaze taking the other man in. 

“So you’re response to this was to break into my home.” 

“I have a key. That’s not breaking in.” With a flourish, Shawn kissed the key still in his hand before shoving it into his jeans pocket. 

“I’ll be wanting that back.” 

“You could always try and get it.” There was another wiggle as Shawn smirked in an infuriating fashion. 

“How did you get here?” Carlton asked with a sigh, moving both hands to scrub over his face. “You smell like beer. You better not have ridden that contraption in your state.”

“She brought me.” The wiggle was becoming more of a grind, Shawn’s cheeks flushing darker with each dip of his hips. 

“Your date brought you to my place.” A look devoid amusement was written all over Carlton’s face. 

“Well, when I started thinking about you, I started drinking more and, you’re not going to believe this,” Shawn’s hands moved to the buttons of Lassiter’s shirt, aiming to undo. “I apparently talk a lot when I drink. And I was talking about you, and she wasn’t really enjoying that.”

With a practiced patience, Carlton took both of Shawn’s hands in one of his own and held them captive, fingers gently encircling the younger man’s wrists. “So you’re drunk and worked up and you came here.”

“Yes.” Pouting, Shawn looked down at his hands and then back to Carlton, whimpering only a little. 

“Get off me Spencer.” With a flick he released the brunette. 

“I mean I’d gladly get you off...” The smirk was back, causing the detective to roll his eyes. 

“Get. Off.” Lassiter growled, showing white, straight teeth as he did so. 

“But you’re the one who kissed me.” Shawn whined. “Three times.” His fingers went back to the buttons but were swatted away by a fuming Carlton. 

“The lengths I’ll go to to shut you up.” Deft fingers moved once more to Shawn’s waist, preparing to propel him from the detective’s lap. 

“Two months.” Shawn held up two fingers, which swiftly changed to three. “You kissed me three times, two months ago, and nothing, no call, no text, not even flowers. I mean, really, how is our relationship going to grow?”

“Our relationship?” Carlton snorted. “Now you really are deluded Spencer.”

“Can we please just go, y’know,” Shawn demonstrated by grinding lower into Lassiter’s laps, lips parting with a pant as he did so. 

“What? You want to frot against me all night?”

“What?” Shawn looked up, bewildered.

“Frot.” Carlton gestured broadly. “Basically what you’re doing now.”

“No.” Shawn shook his head, furrowing his brow. “No I know what frot means.”

“Sure.” Drawled Lassiter. 

“No I mean.” The younger man whimpered, hands now moving to tackle undoing Lassiter’s belt. “Can’t we go, y’know.” He jerked his head towards the hallway leading to Lassiter’s bedroom. How he knew where it was, Carlton would figure out later. 

“You steal my keys, break into my house, interrupt my night, all because you want to have sex and you can’t even say it out loud?” 

Shawn responded but making various gestures and incomprehensible noises. 

“What? You want me to fuck you Spencer?”

“Yes. God. Is that so hard to come around to, let’s go do that. Right now.” 

“Or not.” Once more Carlton snagged Shawn’s hands, holding them more forcefully than the time before. “For one, you’re drunk, and that’s a non-starter.” 

With an irritated look, Shawn pouted heavily, attempting to jerk his hands away. 

“For another, not interested.”

“Ha!” Shawn crowed, pointing accusingly it as accusingly as possible with Carlton holding onto him. “That’s. Not. True.” With each word, Shawn ground down onto the thickness which had developed and was currently trapped between them. 

“Oh grow up.” Lassiter scoffed. “It’s a biological reaction. Has nothing to do with you, just friction.” 

“But the spirits tell me!”

“Shove the spirits. Plus, you’re probably riddled with VD or herpes or god knows and that’s another non-starter so no, Spencer, I’m not taking you to bed.”

Offended, Shawn gasped dramatically. “I am not riddled with anything other than dashing good looks and a ridiculous bod. Safe sex is good sex.”

“Sure it is. But not with me.” Letting go for a third time, Carlton moved to stand, giving Shawn just enough forewarning to scrabble to his feet. 

“So you’re kicking me out?” Shawn moved to start collecting his shoes, but Carlton stalled him with a firm grip on his shoulder, before shoving him down on the couch. 

“No. I’m getting you a pillow and a blanket and you’re going to sleep here until I bring you to your bike in the morning.”

Grinning like some manic fiend, Shawn started to rip off clothes, starting with his shirt. 

“Sleep, Spencer. No sex. No rubbing one out on my couch. Just sleep.”

Grunting with disapproval, Shawn fell back, tossing the shirt across the room in disgust. 

Carlton moved through the space with ease, cleaning up his book and glass before bringing back the promised sleeping gear along with a bottle of water and aspirin. “Go to bed, Spencer.” He chucked the lot at the kid. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”


End file.
